


King Mereum

by SonsOfBelial



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Best Combo, But No One Else Can Handle the Boy, Chrollo is Yes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Hisoka is a Circus Acrobat, I Fancy Him Loads, Illumi is the Best, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Slow Burn, This May Switch to Explicit Later, Will Be Violence and Hisoka-y Things, like no seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 21:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15179750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonsOfBelial/pseuds/SonsOfBelial
Summary: Illumi Zoldyck is the diamond of the Hunter's Institute for Performing Arts, but the winter ballet is endangered when none can match him as the Mereum to his Komugi. As a last resort, President Netero brings in the wildest card in the deck.Ballet School AU.





	King Mereum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnotherStoryMustBegin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherStoryMustBegin/gifts).



> Hehehehehehhehehehehehehehhe.
> 
> Enjoy.

_Illumi_

 

“Again.”

He stopped, the sheen of sweat on his skin bearable only due to the severe way in which his ink black hair had been pulled off his face and neck, wrapped in the tightest of buns. For a brief moment, he looked forward into the mirrors lining the wall, and though he wasn’t sure of himself, his face spoke volumes, dark eyes dead with fatigue. Done. He was done.

“No,” he spoke softly.

“Illumi?”

He turned, facing his partner calmly, taking in the equally distressed and frustrated appearance. “We’re not working, Jack,” he told him lightly.

“You’re leaving?” Jack ran a hand through his floppy brown hair in shock, and Illumi exhaled slightly, his head tilting delicately to one side.

“No,” he replied calmly, “You’re leaving.”

Jack blinked once, before turning to stare at their instructor. “Mister Silva?”

Ice blue eyes settled on Jack from the side of the room, but they did not move, and nor did his lips. The silence spoke volumes. It continued, until Jack had resignedly picked up his things and left, and it lingered afterwards, too. He dropped to the floor, gentle hands moving to pull the ballet shoes from his feet, and he began to stretch, to ease his muscles from the past three hours he’d been dancing.

This was the sixth student Illumi had cut off. 

“He was good,” said Silva idly, his voice cool.

“He was,” agreed Illumi, “But not good enough.”

“No one ever is,” sighed Silva, kicking off the wall and heading for the door, his long silvery hair swishing behind him.

“What if no one is?” called Illumi.

“I’ll sort it.”

As the door swung shut behind him, Illumi stared. His father had said that last time. He couldn’t find anyone to dance with him, and he wouldn’t replace him either. Illumi had even suggested that he play Mereum, and they bring in a girl to play Komugi, but that had been shot down before he’d even finished his sentence. Silva knew what he wanted, he just didn’t have the means to see it happen.

Illumi wondered if he would. 

He wondered, very briefly, if it was his fault. Then he remembered it couldn’t be…

You cannot fault perfection, after all.

 

~

 

Schools of dancing were not ranked worldwide, but if they were, Hunter’s Institute of Performing Arts would have been tucked up snugly at the top ever since it had first been founded. Anyone who was anyone under a spotlight had likely walked those very halls. It was where legends were born and made. 

It was harder to get into than it was to get out of Alcatraz, but if you did, you had a one way ticket to almost guaranteed success. 

Of course, there were those who didn’t need to get in. Illumi was one of those. He was a Zoldyck, and his family had been the shining star of Hunter’s since its very foundation. Talent ran in their blood, and as it was, Illumi and his younger brother were the finest dancers churned out in a good few decades. Their father had certainly been something back in his day, but his father had married their mother, a former Prima Ballerina, for the sole sake of his children being better still. 

Milluki, Kalluto and Alluka might have been disappointing. With Milluki’s weight and obsession with lighting, Kalluto’s clumsiness and musical tendencies, and Alluka’s poor health, Silva might have indeed been disappointed. But in the end, it mattered not. He’d churned out not one, but two, perfect specimens. The graceful doll and the lithe cat. With Illumi following in Kikyo’s footsteps, and Killua in Silva’s. 

Killua was Silva’s favourite, of course, but that was fine, because he was Illumi’s favourite too. 

He was thrilled when, at the end of open auditions, the cast list had been released. Killua would be playing the part of Neferpitou, a part utterly perfect for him, and this also meant that for the first time ever, the two of them would dance together. Rehearse together. There was much Killua had to learn from him.

It was almost a pleasant enough distraction from the fact that as things currently stood, they had no Mereum. 

It would have been fine if all the male lead had to do was toss Illumi about. That had been their approach in the past; but it was different this time. King Mereum wasn’t just the male lead, he was the lead, and if Illumi was to be his Kogumi, he had to be able to shine just as much, if not more than him. 

Illumi didn’t know why his fellow students found it hard - in his view, it wasn’t as though he had a particularly vibrant personality that needed outshining. 

The end of year performance was important this year - it was Illumi’s final year. Before he graduated with a complete set of immaculate qualifications, he needed to show the world one last time he was a diamond to be snatched up. The most important scouts in the business would be there, watching King Mereum, one of the most complex ballets in history, and he would not disappoint. 

He tried not to dwell on the issues slowly rising. He could always just become a model if it all fell through. Illumi was not arrogant to acknowledge his affinity for it. He could sit unusually still when he wanted to.

“Illumi.”

He looked up, realising idly that he’d walked past his studio some minutes back and was now wandering down one of the corridors in the dorm building. Turning his head, he let onyx eyes fall on a man who was no taller than his twelve year old brother. Feitan was in his grade of dance. Quiet, no nonsense, diligent. Illumi had never liked anyone in his life, but he found Feitan was the kind of person he could coexist with peacefully without it draining him. If either of them gave a shit about anything, they might have been friends.

“Hello Feitan,” he greeted politely.

“They brought in a new director for the orchestra,” he told him casually, tucking his hands into the pockets of his Hunter’s sweatpants. 

Illumi cocked his head. “What happened to Ging?”

“Mister Freecs took off last week,” explained Feitan, not bothering to ask how this escaped Illumi’s notice, “Again. Netero can’t get hold of him either, so we’ve no idea when he’ll return. It was eight months last time.” 

Illumi pursed his lips slightly. Ging Freecs was an idiot, but an intensely talented one. “Who are they bringing in?”

At this, Feitan smiled slightly, and Illumi didn’t think he’d ever seen that expression on his face before. “An old friend of mine from Phantom. His name is Chrollo Lucilfer, and trust me, we’re in safe hands.”

The Phantom Troupe was a dance company that had multiple branches across the country. It was accessible to anyone, but Hunter’s sent out scouts occasionally. That’s where they’d found Feitan, and several of the other students, many of whom were participating in King Mereum. And apparently where they’d found this Chrollo Lucilfer, too. 

“I trust your judgement,” replied Illumi lightly, “Also, Jack is gone. I had Father remove him last night.”

 

“You haven’t heard?” asked Feitan, “I heard from Pakunoda, in the orchestra, that apparently he’s asked your grandfather to sort it out.”

An image of the old, sparkly eyed man flashed through Illumi’s mind and he furrowed his brow slightly. “A last resort then,” he murmured, “They haven’t had to have Zeno scout for a dancer in years. Netero doesn’t like turning to him for help… what an odd friendship...”

“They haven’t had a dancer like you in years, Illumi,” said Feitan matter-of-factly, “And if you make whoever plays King Mereum look bad, we’ll all look bad. Just stay limbered up and wait for the powers above to solve the problem.”  
Illumi just nodded his farewell, turned on his heel, and wandered back the way he had come. 

 

~

_Chrollo_

 

He opened the door to the office with no expectations, and it was just as well, because the sight that greeted him was far from usual. Books piled high, papers _everywhere_ , and a small, rotund girl stood behind the desk shuffling things around. She seemed engrossed for a moment, humming a pretty tune, and after a moment he cleared his throat.

She looked up in surprise, blinking. “Mr Lucilfer!” she exclaimed, “I thought you were arriving tomorrow - I had hoped to have all of Mr Freecs’ things sorted and organised before you arrived.”

Chrollo stared for a moment, before a charming smile graced his features. “I can see he was not the tidiest of men,” he remarked lightly, “but you do not need to do this, dear, I’m sure I can make heads or tails of it.”

“It’s no problem, sir,” she insisted, “I always helped him out whenever I could so I know vaguely what I’m doing here - I’m Melody, I’m with woodwind. Flute.” 

He considered ordering her not to, but as he watched her methodically work around the room, he realised she did indeed seem to know what she was doing. Placing his briefcase on the chair by the door, he closed it behind him. “You’re rather quick on your feet, aren’t you?” he chuckled, “Are you sure you’re not one of Zoldyck’s dancers?”

She giggled softly. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that,” she said airily, “But have you seen my face? Beauty isn’t everything, but you’d have a hard time telling an audience that.”

Chrollo tilted his head. He supposed that by most standards, she would appear ugly. He hadn’t really thought about it when he’d made the comment. She had a pretty voice, and natural rhythm, and sparkling eyes. “I’ve never met an ugly flute player,” he told her, “And I daresay I never will. It is one of the loveliest instruments there is.”

“If lovely is what you want, sir,” she laughed, “You’d want Machi. She plays the harp, and she’s as pretty as the music she makes.”

He quirked a brow at this. “Machi and I are... old friends,” he told her, “I’m from the Phantom-”

“Oh yes!” she remembered suddenly, almost dropping a stack of sheet music, “I completely forgot that!” 

He chuckled. “Don’t worry.”

She began sorting through another pile, making idle conversation as she did. “Are you excited then?” she inquired, “There’s some stunning pieces in this ballet. Haunting in places, which is always my favourite. You’re playing for the Zoldyck brothers, too.”

“I saw the oldest one in ‘12 Spiders’ just last year,” recalled Chrollo, “Talent like that doesn’t come along every lifetime…”

“His father married his mother just to make him,” laughed Melody, “I should certainly think so. That’s why they’re having such a hard time finding a Mereum… No one has ever been able to work with Illumi.”

A slightly smile formed on Chrollo’s lips now, and he moved to the window, peering through the blinds out onto the campus. “Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem anymore.”

“They’ve found someone?” asked Melody, alarmed.

“I gave Zeno Zoldyck an idle suggestion,” he said lightly, “Whether or not he’ll take it on board we shall see tomorrow morning, I expect… Which is when rehearsals begin.”

“Don’t you need time to-”

“No,” he cut in, “We’ve no time to waste. We’re behind schedule as it is, and President Netero wants live rehearsals as soon as possible.” He tugged the blinds shut sharply, before turning to her, tapping her hand to make her put down the sheets. “Leave those,” he insisted, “Show me around the Institute instead.”

She looked a little befuddled for a moment, but then an easy smile spread across her face, and she nodded. As he followed her out he let out a breath of air. 

This would be interesting. 

 

~

_Illumi_

He heard the raised voices from the end of the corridor, and were he not a morning person, it might have irritated him. Most students would balk at being summoned to the President’s office at 6am, but Illumi tended to get up two hours earlier than that, so it was all the same to him. He wore his hair down, the long black curtain of silk still soft from his morning shower, and a pair of black leggings, a colour of the same shade hanging loosely from his willowy frame. 

His ears perked slightly as he drew closer. “-this is absolutely ridiculous!” It was his mother. “You can’t expect our sons to go on stage with a bloody circus animal!”

His father’s voice was considerably calmer. “We exhausted all our other options,” he said firmly, “This is the decision my father has made, he has never been wrong before - would you imply he was wrong to pick you, as well?”

“Oh you would wouldn’t you,” she hissed, “Mark me, Silva, there’ll be uproar once this gets out. You brought an acrobat in to dance in the most important performance of Illumi’s career-”

“As usual,” he cut in, “You are irrational and subjective, and might I remind you that you have absolutely no say in this. Go and cool off before I have you removed myself.”

At his father’s cruel words, the doors to the office flew openly violently, and Illumi’s mother stormed out. Her head whipped around as she saw him there, and it was almost like looking at himself. Though she was eternally passionate and raging, and he was anything but.

“Your father will be the ruin of us all,” she spat, storming past him without a single word of affection or concern. The usual, though he loved her deeply.

Unaffected, he continued walking, rounding the corner and entering the office. His father looked considerably exhausted by the encounter. Netero sat behind his desk as usual, with his grandfather Zeno stood just at his shoulder.

“You asked to see me?” inquired Illumi calmly, “It’s in regards to whatever it was my parents were shouting about, I assume.”

Netero smiled warmly, as though it hadn’t happened at all. “Hello there, Illumi,” he greeted in amusement, “Indeed, it would appear we have finally found your Mereum.” 

“Oh?” Illumi’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Who?”

It was Zeno who lifted his hand, gesturing to the corner behind him. As Illumi turned, he was somewhat startled by what he saw. True enough, in the corner, perched atop a bookcase for some reason, was a man. He was long in limb, from what Illumi could tell, and what he could certainly tell was that the man was in impeccable shape. His entire body was covered in a glittering white bodysuit, the fabric clinging to every toned muscle he had to offer. Broad shoulders, and a rock solid core from the looks of things. He had auburn hair in a shade Illumi had never seen before, and if he was handsome, it was hard to tell, because his face was hidden beneath stark white face paint. A star sat on one cheek, and a teardrop on the other. 

Illumi had always thought he himself looked strange, on account of how unusually dark his eyes were, but there was having onyx eyes, and then there was having eyes such a shade of hazel that the only colour they could be described as being was _gold_. 

Illumi cocked his head. “I thought Mereum was green,” he said softly, “I don’t understand this artistic direction.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Netero let out a booming laugh. “He’s not in costume, Illumi!” he guffawed, “At least not in costume for King Mereum anyway. Zeno here practically ripped him from the ring downtown from here - poor man hasn’t even had time to change from the looks of it.”

“The ring?” asked Illumi, his eyes still locked on gold ones he simply could not read.

“The Circus,” explained Silva, “Much to your mother’s distress, when we sent Zeno out to find you your Mereum, this is what he returned with.”

“Have I ever been wrong?” demanded Zeno, a little irritated, “This may not be the Mereum _you’d_ want, but this is the Mereum for Illumi. I am sure of this.”

Suddenly, and with uncommon grace, the man with the painted face hopped down from the bookshelf, sauntering over to Illumi, and when he reached him, Illumi observed that if the man hadn’t been wearing the most ridiculous pair of heeled boots, they might have been similar heights. He smelled strongly of spices Illumi couldn’t begin to know the name of, yet he resisted the urge to step away from him.

“Hisoka Morrow,” introduced the man, his voice surprisingly lilting, yet much deeper than Illumi’s all the same. When he held out his hand, Illumi took it gently. 

“Illumi Zoldyck,” he replied, “You can’t dance?”

Hisoka’s lips curved into a smirk, and Illumi had the feeling it was the man’s most comfortable form of smile, much as it was his little brother’s. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?” he remarked in amusement, “I dabble in dance, here and there, but I suppose by your standards… no, I cannot.”

Illumi released his hand, turning on his heel gracefully and planting his feet again, looking over at Zeno. “I don’t understand this logic, Grandfather,” he said simply.

Zeno moved from where he stood, coming over to his much taller grandson and looking up at him. “You have to play Komugi, Illumi,” he said sternly, “It is not that you’re my grandson that causes me to say you’re the only one with talent enough to pull it off. Yet no one can dance with you.”

“I tried,” he said, feeling a sudden rush of an emotion he hadn’t felt before to name.

Zeno chuckled. “No, _they_ tried,” he corrected, “And they failed. It shouldn’t be that hard either, we raised you like a doll so that this wouldn’t happen. So you’d throw off one skin and put on another. So you’d move the way two hands wanted you to move. You’re a doll, yet no one knows how to play you properly. No one here at Hunter’s Institute, anyway.”

A doll. Of course. “And you think that _he_ can?”

“Mm,” hummed Zeno, looking past Illumi to the man still stood behind him, “We’re certainly willing to pay him handsomely for trying.”

“Well it’s certainly not as though he’s being given a handful,” muttered Silva. 

“I’m not entirely sure that’s the case.” Illumi turned his head back as Hisoka spoke again. “But I’ve played with far more complex toys than _dolls_. You did promise this would be fun and challenging for me, Mister Zoldyck.”

“Oh it is a challenge,” laughed Netero, “The second Illumi feels you’re not working, you’re out the door. He might be a doll, but he’s a mind of his own, and he can be quite stubborn for someone who has a total of three facial expressions.” 

Illumi seethed. The joke was on Netero.

He only had two.

 

~

 

Eventually, they were all ushered out of Netero’s office, and Illumi made no attempt to stay and speak with his father. It was all done and that was that. He headed for the studios, not wanting to waste any time in his continuous training. However, he’d only been walking for a few minutes when he felt a hand grab his arm. He stayed there for a moment, his body used to being grabbed enough that it didn’t make him jump.  
It was Hisoka.

“What?” asked Illumi bluntly, “Have you been following me this hold time.”

Hisoka blinked innocently. “I thought you were aware at first, but you didn’t notice me, so I thought I’d grab you.”

“Clearly.” 

“Where are you going?” he asked curiously, “The institute wakes at 9 I thought.” 

“For most,” he agreed smoothly, “But for some of us, it never sleeps. Are you coming?”

Hisoka tilted his head, seemingly giving this some serious thought. But then he smiled, and it was so wicked Illumi found himself blinking several times. “No,” laughed Hisoka, “I don’t feel up to it this morning. You have fun though.” 

Illumi stared at him. “You just got cast as King Mereum, the leading role,” he told him, “Most kids train for years for something like that, but you were asked to do it, yet you’re going to put in no effort? You can’t dance, remember.” 

“I’ll wing it-”

“But I won’t,” said Illumi, “You can’t wing something when you’re reliant on the person who could dance it in his sleep.”

Hisoka smirked, and the expression lit up his face. “Oh don’t be ridiculous…” he said softly, “Reliance leaves room for being unreliant… You’ll trust me and I’ll trust you, and that will be that.”

 

He shook his head. “You don’t know the routines-”

“I’m working with your father personally to remedy that,” reasoned Hisoka, reaching up to tap him on the nose the way you would a child, “But I’ll come and dance with you if that’s what you really want… We can bond.” 

Illumi stepped back from him, levelling him with a cool look before turning and sauntering away. “We will do no such thing.”

“This is the last chance, you know.”

Illumi halted in his steps, Hisoka’s words pouring over him like a tidal wave he knew was coming. He heard heeled boots draw closer behind him.

“If I fail,” he cooed, “I was their last bet. They’ll be forced to replace you. Is that what you want?”

Suddenly, Hisoka had circled round him, and stood staring, his expression invasive and amused. “... Perhaps it is.”

“It is not,” said Illumi quietly, “Dancing is all I know, and all I ever care to know. If this is your attempt at bonding, it’s going poorly.”

“I don’t think it is,” said Hisoka, and though it was unusually warm, there was something else there too, and Illumi felt like a lamb being led to slaughter just looking at him.

“They brought in a madman to dance with a doll,” sighed Illumi, moving to walk past him now, done with this discomfort, “My grandfather must finally have gone senile.”

Hisoka didn’t follow him this time, but his laugh did, and it lingered in his memory long after, as the most disturbing thing Illumi had ever heard.


End file.
